


perhaps a perfect world.

by AliceInIdolLand



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Battlefield, Death, F/F, F/M, Female My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Fire Emblem Rarepair Week, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Goodbyes, Love, Multi, OT3, Parties, Pastels, Possession, Sunshine - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Victory, cute stuff, soft, there's a really annoying woman in one of these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-18 07:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInIdolLand/pseuds/AliceInIdolLand
Summary: A collection of works for Fire Emblem Rarepair Week 2018~Day 1: Gaius/Tharja/Robin - the usual summer sunshineDay 2: Kiran/Alfonse - what is love?Day 3: Cherche/Olivia - pastel goodbyesDay 4: Sumia/Cordelia - safe as she should beDay 5: Zacharias/Kiran - aching bloodDay 6: Noire/Owain - maybe niceDay 7: Kiran/Alfonse - perhaps a perfect world.





	1. the usual summer sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Robin/Gaius/Tharja is good and I realized it yesterday so I had to write something. I can barely write Gaius, so he doesn’t actually show up here but he is mentioned a bit. This is a Modern AU as well, for the simple reason that I never write them and thought this would be a good chance to do so~

“Hot…”

The word was merely an observation, but there was no one to hear it. Sitting on the bench in front of her house, Robin looked up from her book to gaze at the sky. She’d been outside for hours, so absorbed in her book that she hadn’t even noticed the sun until it started to burn her skin. The cloudiness of the morning had given way to the usual summer sunshine, although Robin didn’t mind it too much. Her brain debated between staying out here and melting or going inside where it would be much cooler.

After a precious two seconds of thinking, she turned her eyes back to the book. She’d been sitting here long enough that it was already comfortable, there wasn’t much of a point in moving. Besides, it’d be too cold if she went in right now.

An hour or two passed, but Robin barely noticed. Too absorbed in her book, she hardly noticed a shadow casting itself over her pages. Instead, she turned the page and continued her reading.

Tharja sighed. “Robin, you’re doing it again.”

“What…?” Looking up towards the voice, Robin's eyes were met with the face of a person, causing her to jerk backwards. “Tharja! Don’t scare me like that!”

Tharja sighed again, even deeper this time. “I’ve been standing right here for five minutes, how have you not noticed.” Although the words should have been a question, it didn't sound like one. 

“Ah, I spaced out again…” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sorry…” With an aggravated groan, Robin patted the space next to her on the bench. “Sit with me?”

Without giving her girlfriend a reply, Tharja plopped herself down beside her girlfriend. Without any pleasantries, she passed the bowl in her hand to Robin.

“What this?” Robin asked, appraising the gaudy pink bowl filled with a variety of colours.

“From Gaius. He said he’ll be home soon.”

“And this is…?”

“Rainbow sorbet. Lime, raspberry and orange, I think. He said it’s your favourite?”

Taking an experimental taste, Robin confirmed that those were the flavours. “Yep!” she replied before digging right into the treat.

“Good,” Tharja replied. Taking a moment, she used her own spoon to eat the small bits of remaining chocolate ice cream from her bowl. It had been full, but she had eaten most of it on the walk home. Satisfied with the bowl's emptiness, Tharja placed it on the bench to her. She'd pick up the trash later, she assumed

As Robin ate, Tharja merely observed her. The skin on her arms was already tanning, a stark contrast to the snow white of her hair. Her book was still open, although there only seemed to be a few pages left before the end. Clearly, she had spaced out for a few hours again… It wasn't as if Tharja didn't understand it how she could do it, especially if the sun felt particularly nice and the book was amazingly good. Still, Tharja would bet that Robin wasn’t wearing any sort of sunscreen, she’d get skin cancer if she did this too often…

Deep in thought, Tharja didn’t notice Robin trying to get her attention. A sharp poke in her side removed her from her thoughts. 

“Yes?” she asked, her voice tinged with annoyance. That had actually hurt and besides, there were gentler ways to get someone’s attention.

“Work was good?” Robin asked as she scraped out the remaining sorbet, savouring the last of the flavour.

“Yeah. We got some new books in, I’ll pick some stuff up for you since you’re practically done this one..”

“The library’s lucky to have you, I’m even luckier.”

“Of course you are,” Tharja replied dryly as if it didn’t make her happy to hear. The words made her heart beat a little faster, but she did have a reputation to uphold on the outside.

“Gaius is going to be home soon?”

“Yeah. He’s closing up shop today so he’ll be here in a bit.”

“Good. I have to thank him for the sorbet.”

Standing up, Tharja offered Robin her hand. Placing a bookmark in the tome, Robin accepted the offer. 

As the pair entered their house, Tharja spoke up. “You know, you really need to stop spacing out. At the very least, put on sunscreen before going outside.”

“I did this time!” Robin replied as she moved to throw her ice cream cup away. “You yelled at me a lot last time, so I made sure I did.”

“Mmm. Did you eat lunch, at least?”

“Um…” She seemed to think about it for a moment before bending her head in shame, white hair covering her face. “Not this time, no.”

With a deep sigh, Tharja walked closer and pinched Robin’s cheeks. 

“Ey!” Before she could complain anymore, Tharja stared Robin right in the eye. It might have been menacing but in this situation, it meant that Tharja was being serious.

“Take care of yourself more, honestly. You know Gaius and I would be upset if something happened.”

“Eah…” 

Letting go of her girlfriend’s cheeks, Tharja pressed a short kiss to each of them. “Good. As long as you remember." She smiled softly before turning her back and walking towards the kitchen. "Now, what’s for dinner? You’re cooking, right? Because Gaius is going to make a cake again and I cooked yesterday.”

Instead of responding right away, Robin simply stared at her girlfriend's back, a smile on her lips. For someone as quiet and mysterious as Tharja, showing concern like that was rare. Robin couldn’t help but feel grateful for the fact that Tharja and Gaius were he significant others. She really couldn't have found better people, significant or not.

“Robin, hello? Are you spacing out again?” Tharja called from the kitchen.

“I’ll be right there, I was just thinking,” Robin replied. 

“Well, hurry it up a bit, won’t you? Food doesn’t make itself, you know.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be right there,” Robin replied as she finally began to move. Even if Tharja continued to be her classic self, it made Robin happy.

(Although, there was no way she wasn’t tell Gaius how adorable Tharja had been. It was too rare an event to not share.)


	2. what is love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although it might be a bit childish, Kiran considers love and all the things about it they don't understand. The result isn't traditional, but it's all they know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiralfonse <3 Based on a few problems I’ve encountered myself, plus the fact that crying can be good stress relief at times.
> 
> The title was an accident don't @ me.

Kiran’s study was by far one of the fanciest rooms in Askr’s castle. It had everything anyone could ever want, from food to soft couches and room for all sorts other things. There were several desks, each containing several essential things for a tactician. Quills that had been in the room when Kiran received it were everywhere for no particular reason. There were several souvenirs as well, covering the room in a variety of styles and designs. Despite the number of things found in the room, all were sorted in an order that made so much sense yet almost none at all. For the room's inhabitant, it all worked quite well and was often a comfort. None of the other heroes could bring themselves to complain about the state of the room, so it stayed as it was.

Although the room was rather large, it’s messiness meant that it rarely held any people other than Kiran. Even so, the summoner preferred to be around people more than having a room to themselves, so the room was often unused for large periods of time. It never stayed untouched, though, as the cleaning staff made sure to dust it often, but its usual state of disorderliness was never touched.

It was also the place Kiran came to cry.

For someone put into a position of leadership, the tears Kiran shed were often reasonable. The only problem was that being the face of the army, the saviour of the kingdom, left little room for weakness. Every time they felt overwhelmed, Kiran would have to remove themselves from the situation so they could sneak off and cry it out. The summoner often took their pain in large doses, only crying when the build-up became too much.

Today, the reason seemed a bit childish, no matter how Kiran turned it over in their head. As tactician and overseer, Kiran often ended up forming relationships between units. Most became friends or even learned to tolerate each other, which was good for the morale of the army.

A small, ever-increasing percentage got married. Even though this wasn’t their world, they got to be happy with someone else. Marriage was a big step, an important step, that Kiran had never thought about.

Kiran couldn't see themselves even marrying someone. The feelings others seemed to take for granted never came to Kiran, no matter how hard they tried to find them. Unable to even grasp the basics, the thought of marriage seemed so far away that it was impossible. It was something that Kiran wanted, there was no doubt of that, yet there seemed to be no hope of attaining it.

Seeing happy couples, sent a sharp pain through Kiran’s heart these days. As someone who couldn’t even see themselves in a relationship, seeing others succeed where they couldn’t felt like a knife in the gut. Wanting love but not even being able to recognize it if it slapped you in the face was beyond frustrating, Kiran realized.

Wanting something you had no hope of ever getting crushed your soul, that was reason enough to cry. Even if it was as childish as not being able to find love, Kiran still felt their sadness was valid.

Kiran’s study was the perfect place for crying over and letting go of all these negative feelings. Except for those on patrol, the castle was almost deserted today. Everyone had a day off, meaning there was almost no one around to both Kiran like there usually would be.

Making sure they were alone, Kiran slipped into their study. No one was there, as per usual, meaning the summoner would be free for the next few hours at the very least. Taking up residence in the farthest, emptiest corner, Kiran finally let themself cry. Sadness over the war, the pain of loneliness, the realization of not being able to achieve a dream, Kiran let all the negative things out. No matter how long it took, they wouldn’t be leaving this room until they felt free of all their problems.

After what felt like a short minute but might have been an hour, the door to the study creaked open. Immediately, Kiran stopped making any sound at all, face still wet. Had they forgotten to lock the door? Cursing at their forgetfulness, Kiran attempted to make themselves as small as possible. Hopefully, whoever it was would leave as soon as they had what they wanted.

“Kiran? Are you in here?” The summoner cursed themselves even more the second they heard the voice. Of all people to come in here, it had to be Alfonse? What great luck… Instead of leaving, the prince walked into the room and began to look through the clutter.

Searching for anything in this room could take hours, so Kiran decided to stay quiet. If Alfonse did notice them, there was no way they could make up and excuse for this…Staying as quiet as possible, Kiran's thoughts began to drift through their head. New strategies were thought of as time passed, from using Fjorm in the next battle to having Celica learn a new skill and partnering up Ephraim and Innes since they were going to be married and… Oh. Marriage, relationships, they were the reason why Kiran was even here in the first place. A stray tear fell, then another as Kiran sobbed quietly, then sniffled.

The sound rang through the otherwise quiet room, making Kiran freeze. Please say Alfonse hadn't heard, please say Alfonse hadn’t heard…

“Hello? Is someone in here?” Of course he heard, what wonderful luck…

Alfonse steeled himself, preparing for anything as he approached the corner. There wasn’t anything over there, other than room to hide. He couldn’t have imagined the noise either, so someone or something had to be hiding.

As soft noises indicated Alfonse’s approach, Kiran seized up. Alfonse would see and then he’d realize they’d been crying and he’d see how weak they really were, and then he’d tell everyone and they'd all hate Kiran… Not knowing what else to do, the summoner began to sob loudly.

“K-Kiran?” Alfonse exclaimed, not sure what to make of the crying puddle of summoner in the corner. “Are you alright?”

Instead of responding, Kiran just cried harder. “I.. I wuh… I’m guh…” Any words they tried to form were drowned out by their sobs, making a conversation impossible.

Alfonse was dumbfounded. Sharena didn’t cry much anymore so he had no idea how to deal with a sobbing person. “Um…I’ll just... Sit with you, then…”

And sit he did, right beside the summoner. Gradually, their tears dried up and Alfonse developed enough courage to pat them on the head, although it was very awkward.

“So…”

“Y-yeah?”

“Why were you crying?”

“Because…” Kiran turned the thought over in their head. Why were they crying? “Because I was crying and I thought you’d see me and tell everyone else and they’d all hate me.”

The prince was silent. What kind of thought was that? The fact that Kiran felt that way, it wasn’t right. “Kiran…”

“Y-yes?” the summoner replied, not daring to look at the prince.

“Look at me.”

“Okay…” They did so, reluctantly at first, until they noticed the concerned expression on Alfonse’s face.

“I would never tell anyone that you were crying. Never. No one would hate you for it either. Everyone’s allowed to cry, no matter what, okay?”

Kiran stayed silent for a moment before nodding.

“If…” he hesitated, not sure if he should offer, before ultimately deciding he should. “If you want to tell me what was wrong or if something is wrong in the future, please let me know. Everyone here cares about you. I care about you.” He hadn’t meant to say that last part, but it felt right. Perhaps the summoner wouldn’t catch the real meaning behind those words...

Kiran was quiet. Their tears had dried up now, and the weight of Alfonse’s words were comforting. “I was crying because… I want to get married.”

The words floated in the air until both the summoner and the prince understood exactly what Kiran had said. Shooting up into a standing position, Kiran flailed around in shock. “Th-that’s not what I meant! I don’t want to marry you- I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to marry you! You’re nice and smart and everything but! That’s not…”

As Kiran rambled, Alfonse sat on the floor dumbfounded. Huh. Kiran wouldn’t mind marrying him. The thought made his face turn scarlet, the shade of red getting deeper every second.

Slowly, he stood up and Kiran stopped talking. “So,” he began, “You want to get married so you cried?”

“Well,” Kiran replied, looking at the ground in embarrassment. “When you put it that way, it sounds dumb…”

With a sigh, Kiran started to explain. “It’s more like, I’m jealous of everyone else’s relationships, I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I’m… not really sure? I’ve never been in love and at this rate, I never will be. I was crying because I’ll never get to experience it, and that makes me sad.”

“Oh.” When explained, it was such a simple concept that even a small child could grasp it. Still, Alfonse didn’t understand. “How do you know you’ve never been in love, though?”

Kiran paused. “I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be like, how it’s supposed to feel. There are stories about it everywhere back in my world, but I’ve never felt anything like it. It just seems so… impossible, I guess.”

Alfonse didn’t know what to say to that. If Kiran had never felt love, then having his reciprocated would be impossible. Unless…

“If you want… I could teach you.” It was a weird thing to offer, but he had to do something, he couldn’t just leave Kiran alone. It might be torturous but in the end… Yes, he decided, helping a friend, especially one as precious as Kiran, was more important.

“Okay.”

Alfonse looked up, a bit surprised that his offer had been accepted so easily. “Really?”

“Of course,” Kiran replied, nodding firmly. “It’d be best to learn from someone who has experience, right? You’ve been in love before?”

“Y-yeah…” Not that he’d admit who he was in love with, of course.

“Then, it’ll be perfect, right?”

“I-I suppose so.”

Grabbing his hand, Kiran made to exit the room. Filled with hope that they could finally understand relationships and how to be in one, they couldn’t help but be excited. “Let’s do it, then!”

“Y-yay…” It was weak, but all Alfonse could muster. Two seconds in and they were already holding hands? Alfonse was already ready to die of embarrassment.


	3. pastel goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is soft, their final days are soft, everything is soft. 
> 
> It's pastel, softer than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the thought of an event called "Past Aspirations and Pastel Futures". Putting a twist on it by adding goodbye, I ended up here somehow...
> 
> Modern AU, but it's not really explored.

Their final days together are soft, much like pastels.

The kisses they exchange are the lightest pink, the colour of Olivia’s nervous blush. Soft and fleeting but still as loving as any other kiss, they make contact and leave spots of warmth behind. For a goodbye such as this, these kisses are the only acceptable kind.

(When they were younger, kisses had been more powerful, more urgent things. That electric pink belonged to their sons now, their own shade dulled with age.

Neither Cherche nor Olivia minded as the colour faded, as passionate nights were traded for soft, comfortable ones that felt just as good. As the burning need dissipated, quiet companionship filled in the empty space. Sitting and enjoying their time with each other grew more and more appealing with age. It was cozy, so neither could bring themselves to mind very much.)

((A single kiss, soft as silk, was shared on the first of the final days.))

The smiles and laughter that never seem to leave the room are the softest yellow, like the flowers Cherche gave Olivia after every dance. Although a pale colour, it holds just as much excitement and joy as it always had.

(In younger days, the yellows had been bright and bold like sunflowers. When they found themselves in the mood, the pair was almost impossible to ignore. Olivia’s dances, Cherche’s parties, having children and raising those kids, there were some many joyful things to think about. After so many happy things and heart-pounding events, the gradual fade in colour was welcomed. 

As the years passed, Olivia danced less and less she could no longer spin around without worry for her health. Cherche’s loud events gradually became tea parties, fewer and farther between than ever. Gerome and Inigo were grown-up now, they no longer lived at home. Despite the lack of all these things, their happiness had not and would not disappear. With all the small things, the regular happenings of everyday life, the pair grew content. It was more comfortable in this old age, more so than any thrilling occurrence would have been.

Despite being happy with what they had, Gerome and Inigo often came home. Although older now, they still gave their mothers new things to laugh about. Their sons were adorable at their simplest, the lights of their mother’s lives. Even looking at them, Olivia and Cherche couldn’t help but feel grateful. The fact that they had been able to have children together was something they still marvelled at after all these years. Their sons were out there, living their lives, just as they had been raised to do by their mothers who had done the same. The yellow of the happiness they felt because of these things may not have been extremely bold, but its brightness was unquestionable.)

Green, the shade of mints and ferns, colour their surroundings at the end. Alone in their little cottage with plants as their only witness, it is the only place imaginable for the end.

(After the war, the only thing Cherche had wanted to do was settle down. Her original home was gone and Olivia couldn’t go back to hers, so they decided to settle in Ylisse. This land was foreign to the both of them, but it was the land they had spilled blood for. It could be the place where they would stay.

At the time, Olivia’s dancing made money and so did Cherche’s skills, learned from her time at House Virion. It hadn’t been long before the two had gathered enough money to buy a nice little cottage on the outskirts of town. It was private enough that they could be themselves but close enough to town that they weren't completely cut off.

The cottage had been cute, but it didn’t feel like a home, not at first. As Olivia busied herself with the interior, Cherche rolled up her sleeves and got to work outside. Bushes, trees, flowers, every kind of plant she could get her hands on filled the area. Soon enough, there were greens everywhere with pops of colour sprinkled throughout. Simply put, it was one of the most beautiful sights either had seen after all the bloody battlefields. When Cherche had finally decided it was done, she stood next to her wife and Minerva, admiring what the little house had become. Olivia had kissed her and told her it was perfect because it really was. 

As everything grew older, it became softer. The plants regrew again, but some disappeared as they were damaged or destroyed by the weather or playing too roughly. The spots stood empty until something new sprouted, small and fragile. Cherche tended to these new blooms with all her heart, Olivia assisting her every now and then. Unlike these plants, humans and animals didn’t revive themselves.

Minerva had passed away years ago. Buried in the backyard with a grave marker erected on the spot, Cherche had cried buckets that day. Olivia had kissed every tear away and assured her that it would get better with time.

Inigo and Gerome were called, alerted to the news. Both chose to come home, mourning the loss of such an important part of their mother’s and their own lives.

Gerome brought Minerva the Second, Minerva’s only child, with him. The second Cherche had laid eyes on her, her features hardened and she shook her head.

“No, Gerome,” she said, voice clear as day. With her tone, it was hard to believe she had been crying moments before. “Minerva is yours. You can’t give her back to me.”

“But-” he said, but never got farther than that.

“No,” Cherche repeated. “No.” The third time, tears accompanied the two letter word. Her family comforted her that day, said all the sweet things about how it would be alright in the end. No one mentioned getting a replacement, they knew it would only upset Cherche more than she already was. 

For all the words they had and hadn’t said that day, Cherche would be eternally thankful.

As the years passed, Minerva became a part of the greenery. Stopping to look at a leaf or a flower, Cherche would always be struck with the thought of her dearest friend. Minerva was part of the pastel green now and she always would be.)

The atmosphere is a lilac purple and the days are painted in its soothing colour. It's the shade of Cherche’s eyes, of Olivia’s courage, of everything the pair stands for, especially in these final moments.

(It’s a colour they know well. Purple is for the good things, the nice things, the important things. Purple things are the ones that are sweeter than sugar and make life worth living.)

((Neither would give up this purple for anything.))

The final colour is blue, like the sky in the afternoon, covered with clouds and letting only the palest cerulean peek out. It’s the colour of the sadness Cherche feels as Olivia closes her eyes, never to open them again, the feeling of knowing exactly what had just happened. Although not as violent as it would have been in her youth, the emotion and her tears are genuine.

(Cherche wonders if Olivia saw blue in her first moments. She had always been the more fragile of the pair, graceful too. It was a grace that Cherche had first admired before she grew to love it. 

She has to move away from Olivia’s body after a moment. Her tears stream down her face, wanting to see the love of her life again, but Cherche knows she couldn’t bear to feel Olivia’s body grow cold beneath her touch, to see the colour drain from her lips and hands, to have her heart stop completely while still in the room. Even the thought leaves Cherche unable to function, weaker than she has ever felt before. She has to leave. It's what Olivia would want, she thinks, so she does.

She picks up the phone and calls Gerome.

“Hello?” he says.

“It’s me,” Cherche replies. “Olivia’s… passed on.” They’re the only words she can say, but they make the sensation feel even heavier, having said it, it all reals more real. A choked sob escapes her throat as Gerome says something from the other side of the phone, but she can’t hear it. Eventually, the words reach her ears as her throat seizes up once more.

“I’m coming over. I’ll call Inigo.” 

“Please.” He hangs up, but Cherche can’t bring herself to press the button. Instead, she finds the nearest chair and sits down, crying her eyes out. The tears are soft and slow, but they refuse to stop, not even after Gerome and Inigo have arrived, rushing to comfort her at a time like this.)

((Cherche can barely remember Olivia’s funeral. She cried the second it started, her strength giving out after everyone wished her well. It's just a blur of talking and suits and dresses, of Gerome and Inigo refusing to her side as she sobs. As Olivia’s coffin is lowered into the ground, Cherche manages to say one thing.

“Goodbye, my love.”))

(((She doesn't cry anymore after that. Olivia wouldn’t want her to.)))

Another colour appears afterwards, one that isn't quite a pastel but soft enough to be there. A pure white, one that covers everything in Cherche’s vision, finally shows up. Had Olivia seen it in her final moments? Before Cherche can even contemplate the question, everything becomes soft. The world is soft, she is soft, the voice calling out to her softens into nothingness.

How perfect would it be, she wonders, if Olivia were in the softness as well?


	4. safe as she should be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if she was still out there, heart beating just as fiercely as ever? Cordelia couldn’t be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter than the usual, today was a rough day for me… That being that, this was the best thing I could come up with to cheer me up, so please enjoy!
> 
> Tw for some death in this one, but it's nothing graphic.

It was hard to breathe. 

Smoke coated the air, thick with the stench of death. Knocked from her pegasus earlier in the battle, shot down by an archer, Cordelia couldn't think. Up, she had to get up. Sitting on the ground would do nothing for anyone who was still alive, including herself. 

The first thing she noticed was that her ankle hurt. Looking down at it, the unnatural position could only mean that it had been broken when she had fallen. Running had never been her strong suit anyway so it would be fine.

The second thing was the startling amount of bodies on the ground. The opposing army had been strong, far stronger than they should have been. Although she was still on the ground, Cordelia could see familiar faces every way she looked. Swallowing her disgust, she pushed herself to her feet. She wouldn’t end up like these people, not this time.

The third thing was more abstract, a question. If so many people had died, was that person still alive? The immediate thought choked her up. If the answer was no, Cordelia might as well just lay here and wait to die. But what if she was still out there, heart beating just as fiercely as ever? Cordelia couldn’t be sure, wouldn’t be sure until she got out of this place. Pushing the thought from her mind, she vowed to not think of such things for the time being.

Standing up, she took a moment to get steady on her feet. Shifting her weight to her good foot, Cordelia let out a breath. The pain was nothing, she assured herself. Nothing at all.

Walking, she started walking. Over bodies and weapons and the blood that had been shed, Cordelia didn’t stop. Rather, she couldn’t. If she did, she was sure she start going again. To her left, someone who had been her friend. Averting her eyes, Cordelia resisted the urge to throw up and continued on.

She walked for almost an hour, ignoring the pain in her ankle and everywhere else. The carnage was everywhere, it continued on as far as she could see. No one, there was no one. On the battlefield, Cordelia seemed to be the only one left alive.

Not knowing what else to do, Cordelia walked some more. She stopped every time she saw someone she recognized, taking a moment to wish their souls peace before moving on. It was the proper thing to do, no matter how broken she felt.

Some more walking led her to a place with even more destruction than the rest of the area. The center of the battlefield, it must have been. With armour larger and more intimidating than any others, the enemy commander laid in a pool of blood. Several holes in his armour could be seen, the metal not having withstood the opponent's blade. So the Shepherds had won, it seemed. 

Cordelia thought for a second. Had it been a victory if it had ended this badly for their own side? Perhaps this was more of a loss since nothing good would come of this fight. Turning the idea over in her mind to distract herself from the pain seemed like a good idea, so she decided to do so. Standing there, brain working on overdrive, time passed the perfect girl by.

“Cordelia?” The voice shocked her out of her thoughts. She turned towards the voice, wondering who it was. Someone had to be alive to call her name, after all. Looking around the battlefield, the redhead couldn't see a thing other than blood and bodies. With a shake of her head, Cordelia sunk back into her thoughts. Maybe she had imagined it, with how off-balance she felt it wouldn’t have been strange.

The gentle flap of wings caught Cordelia off guard as a pegasus landed nearby. Turning to look, Cordelia found herself relieved. Thinking the one thing she hadn’t wanted to wonder about earlier, her answer turned out positive. Alive, Sumia was alive.

“Cordelia!” Vaulting off of her pegasus and making her way across the field as quickly as possible, it was Sumia. As the brunette approached, Cordelia’s heart beat faster. Safe, Sumia was safe. 

Capturing the redhead in a crushing hug, Sumia began to cry. “I know it, I knew it was you! There’s no way you could have died, that’s what I told everyone and I was right! I.. I’m so glad I found you!”

Returning Sumia’s hug with just as much force, Cordelia patted her girlfriend on the head. “Of course I’m still here, I promised I wouldn’t leave you, after all.” Her voice came out measured as always, but it hid immense relief. Sumia hadn’t left her like she had feared.

As Cordelia moved her feet to support both her and Sumia’s weight, a sharp pain from her ankle make her groan. 

“Cordelia…? Are you okay?” Sumia asked, looking up from her hug. “Oh... You’re crying.”

“I… am?” Reaching up to touch her face, Cordelia realized Sumia wasn't wrong. Tears were streaming down her face like they hadn't in a long time.

“I haven’t cried since…” She didn’t finish the sentence. The last time she had cried, it had been without Sumia, but on a battlefield much like this one. She had lost the rest of the pegasus knights and- She stopped thinking about it. Even after all this time, it hurt too much.

Although Cordelia didn't finish, Sumia understood. Wrapping her arms around her girlfriend again, more gently this time, she spoke. “It’ll be okay…”

The pair stood there for a while, being grateful that they had both survived this bloody ordeal. 

Once she could properly articulate again and her thoughts had formed some sort of order, Cordelia spoke. “Thank you.”

“Any time. Did you get hurt?”

“Ah…” Embarrassed, Cordelia looked away from Sumia’s stare. “My ankle…”

Bending down to look at the injury, Sumia frowned. “That doesn’t look good… Were you walking on it?”

“Yeah..”

“Cordelia! That’s gotta hurt pretty badly by now.”

“It does.” There was no point in denying it at this point, at least.

“I’ll carry you then.”

“What?” Before she could even get out a word in response, Sumia lifted her girlfriend up. Like a bride, Cordelia was carried to the waiting pegasus.

Instead of offering a complaint, Cordelia relaxed in Sumia’s arms. “I love you,” she said, saying it first for once.

“I love you too,” Sumia replied, smiling down at the love of her life resting in her arms, safe as she should be.


	5. aching blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruno is Zacharias and Zacharias is Bruno, except they aren’t the same and one makes Kiran’s heart hurt, while the other steals it away every night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zacharias but when his blood-curse overwhelms him it’s like possession, with Bruno being whats possessing him. I was going to write about mermaids but I promised myself no fantasy, so… Here it is.
> 
> Warning for Bruno being touchy-touchy aggressive.

Kiran paced inside their study. Back and forth, forward and backward, their footsteps didn’t stop. Strategy, they needed to come up with a strategy. That was all they were good for anyway, so why wasn’t it coming? They couldn’t even come up with an idea, how useless was that? Nothing even half decent was coming to them, how frustrating... At this rate, Anna and everyone would get demolished and Veronica and Bruno would win. That wouldn’t do, not at all, especially after Kiran had promised him that they would do better. So, Kiran kept pacing, as if the rhythmic sound of their footsteps would help their brain think faster.

After a solid hour of this, they finally stopped. With a disappointed sigh, Kiran came to the simple conclusion that this wasn’t helping. Perhaps a break would do them well, they thought as they turned to their desk. Instead of an empty chair like they expected, a person sat there, staring right at Kiran.

“Zacharias! You’re here!” Kiran smiled brightly, bounding over to the desk to greet him. Instead of saying something like he usually would, he smirked. Evil, it looked eviler than anything should look on Zacharias’ face. 

“Bruno.” Correcting themselves, Kiran stopped moving forward. If it was actually Bruno this time… They didn’t want to think about it. Conjuring a mask of boredom, the summoner did their best to hide behind it.

“Kiran. So nice to see you again.” His tone was gentle but menacing in a way Zacharias had never sounded. So Kiran was correct, this time at least. Nothing about this meeting would be nice, it seemed.

“You’re here again? I told you not to come back after the last time.” Moving farther, to the wall across from the man, Kiran leaned against it and tried to look unbothered by all this. The cloak's hood helped a bit, but they knew Bruno could already tell how they felt.

Bruno smirked. “Since when do I listen to what you say, darling?” 

The summoner grimaced. They already knew the answer, it was never. Ever since the first night, Kiran had never had much of a say in anything when Bruno appeared. 

“So?” they asked, not bothering to actually answer his question. “What do you want this time?”

He smiled at this, a genuine one. “Speeding it along for once? How rare.” Getting off the chair, he made his way to Kiran’s place on the wall. He did so with purpose, as if this was all planned, even Kiran's actions.

They moved, ever so slightly, from one wall to the next. There was only so much space in the room so they couldn’t get away. It'd barely been a second before Bruno trapped them in his arms, a solid wall behind their back. Leaning in, the man pressed his lips to Kiran’s, hard and urgent. The summoner responded in kind without meaning to. Moving against a mouth they knew so well seemed to be second nature, even if the mouth currently belonged to someone else. It still felt the same, and that was what made it worse.

Without bothering to pull far away, Bruno smirked. “So eager today, aren’t we? I saw you pacing earlier, do I make you that restless?”

“Uncomfortable, more like,” Kiran responded, venom in their voice. Attempting to pull away, he only pulled them back in for another kiss, and then another. As Bruno moved to do something more, he twitched suddenly, as if his hands weren’t listening to what he wanted them to do.

“Oh, so the prince is being stronger today?” An annoyed look appeared on his face as he pulled away, much farther this time. “Fine, I’ll get what I want another time. See you later, darling.” Pressing one final kiss to Kiran's lips, this one much sweeter than before, Bruno closed his eyes.

When he opened them, it was Zacharias instead. Blinking a few times, he assessed the situation as he got used to being in his body again. The first thing in his vision was Kiran, lips swollen and looking thoroughly dishevelled. A dark blush rose to his face as he muttered unintelligible things to Kiran’s face.

The summoner could only smile, hugging the man close with a gentleness they hadn’t had for Bruno. Running their fingers over his hair, they murmured a few words. “Welcome back.”

“Um, yes…” It wasn’t the smartest thing he could have said, but they were the only words coming out of his mouth. As his brain raced a mile a minute while Kiran continued to stroke his hair, things finally began to add up.

Rather fiercely, he grabbed the summoner’s hand, inspecting it. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he never does,” Kiran replied, shaking their head from side to side.

“That doesn’t mean-”

“I know it doesn’t but look, I’m okay. A little bit winded, but okay. See?”

Looking down at his lover, it was obvious that the possessed version of himself hadn’t done much, as per usual. It was almost always like this when Bruno came out, although it could easily have been much worse. Neither Zacharias nor Kiran could tell if things would change, when things would change. Saying a silent thanks that it hadn't been worse, Zacharias pressed a soft a kiss to Kiran’s head as the pair leaned against the wall in silence.

A quick look at his face told Kiran he was deep in thought, so the summoner chose not to disturb him. Instead, they ran their hand over Zacharias’ arm as soft and gentle as ever. Not wanting to move, Kiran let their mind wander, thinking of how they had gotten here.

It had started with Zacharias appearing in Kiran’s room on the first day. He had wanted to teach the amateur summoner some strategy and how to overcome Embla. With his blood becoming more of a threat each day, it was all he could do to help the Askrans, his friends. As things progressed, the strategy lessons were trading for sitting and talking. Even later, the relaxing moments were tossed aside in favour of kissing and loving one another. 

And then one day, it was Bruno who appeared instead of Zacharias. He touched and spoke with more force than Zacharias would ever use on someone so precious to him. When the two switched back, Zacharias couldn’t remember anything besides coming to Kiran's room. As Kiran told him what he had done and said, he had no choice but to pass it off as a side effect of his blood. It happened again, and then another time until it was impossible to ignore. Trying to avoid the possibility of Bruno doing something worse, Zacharias tried his best to stay away. Unfortunately, Bruno did what he wanted with no regard for his host's wishes.

Bruno came more frequently these days, but there was nothing Kiran could do about it. He was stronger than they were, and even then hurting him meant hurting Zacharias. Kiran didn't want to cause him any unnecessary harm, no matter what form he was in. So far, he hadn’t done more than kiss Kiran wildly and say things more risque than Zacharias could even think of. Besides the uncertainty of it all, it hadn't become much of an issue yet.

With Zacharias in their arms for once, an event that seemed so rare these days, Kiran couldn’t help but think harder. Would things be like this from now on, a secret from the rest of the world with Bruno popping in every now and then? Could they be? Kiran opened their mouth to ask what their lover though, but the man opened his mouth first.

“I have to go. I’m sorry.” There was a sad, pained look in his eyes that appeared so often these days.

Kiran locked their jaw and steeled their eyes, trying not to show how disappointed they were. “It’s okay,”

“Kiran it-”

“I said it’s okay.” They interrupted, not letting him speak. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He responded, knowing he couldn’t say anything else without the summoner interrupting him again.

“Goodnight,” they said, pressing their lips against his for a short sweet kiss. He savoured the taste of Kiran’s mouth against his before pulling away.

“Good night,” he said in return, gently smiling down at Kiran, marvelling at how sweet they could be.

As he pulled away, Kiran blinked for a moment. It wasn’t long, only a fraction of a second, but when their eyes were fully opened again, Zacharias was gone. He had taken Kiran’s heart with him like he did every time he left.

Kiran stared at the spot where he had last time been for a moment. A strategy popped into their head but Kiran ignored it. Did Zacharias know he was such a great thief? The perfect crime, a willing victim, even if it hadn't been intentional, he'd stolen Kiran's heart.


	6. maybe nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a ball, a fancy party, and Noire isn’t sure she likes it. There’ll be so many people and it’ll be loud and crowded and maybe she’d get angry and snap at someone. She’s worried about it, that’s what. But Owain asked her to go, so… Maybe she should. Maybe it'd be nice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are so lovely and comforting so I wanted to write them something nice;;; I’ve been having a rough time lately, so having Noire be herself her makes me feel a bit better, I suppose. As always, please enjoy~

This kind of setting made Noire nervous, even more than a battlefield ever made her feel. There are too many people and the hall is enormous, so being alone is hard enough. To make things worse, there are more than a few people who want to talk to her, not that Noire would know why. If they could just leave her alone, things would be so much better. Even with her uncomfortable dress, getting away from the people would make her feel much better.

She had really only come because Owain had asked so Noire couldn't say she had been looking forward to the evening. Not that Owain asking wasn’t a good enough reason for her to come, not at all! Noire loved Owain, she really did, but places like this made her anxious and want to yell…

Taking a few deep breaths to steady her nerves, Noire made her way to the side of the room. There was a small buffet there, meaning she could get away from all the people for a little while. Maneuvering around poofy dresses and couples dancing to music, Noire’s pace was as slow as a snail. If they could move and let her through already, it’d be great!

Her journey to the refreshments table came to a screeching halt when someone bumped her, a lady.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” It actually wasn’t her fault, but it’d get her out of this situation faster. Besides, it was only natural to apologize for something like this, right?

Instead of apologizing back, the lady simply looked at her, appraising Noire. Her dress and face, her posture and lack of a male companion, the woman noticed it all. She sniffed haughtily as if looking at something that disgusted her. “And who are you supposed to be, hm?”

“What?” Noire said, surprised at the fact that this woman sounded so rude. When the lady in front of her didn’t look like she was going to move, Noire answered the question. “Uh, I’m Noire…”

“Noire?” the lady said, pronouncing it wrong even though she had just heard the correct way to say it. “I can’t say I’ve heard of you. Your parents are?”

“M-my mother’s mage…” These questions were a bit personal in Noire’s opinion but she wasn’t sure what else to do. What if this lady was important? If Noire offended her and something bad happened... She didn’t even want to think of that.

The lady’s face contorted into one of pure disgust. “A commoner, then? What are you even doing in a place like this? I bet you snuck in, didn’t you?”

“N-no! Nothing like that!” Noire exclaimed waving her hands to defend herself. “I was asked to come so I’m here!”

“Asked? By who? Clearly, you’re poor and not even that pretty, what kind of person would invite you here?”

Noire couldn't hide her shock. Who was this person, to be able to say something like that? Calling her ugly and saying that Owain was weird without even seeing his face? This had to be the rudest person Noire had ever met!

Frowning deeply, Noire opened her mouth to give this woman a piece of her mind. As she was about to say what clearly needed to be said, Noire paused for a moment. If she got angry and went off now, there’d be no stopping herself and she’d ruin the night for everyone. Then Owain would be upset and break up with her because she wasn’t calm or pretty enough to be by his side and Noire wouldn’t know what to do with herself.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Noire settled on nicer words to say. ”I’m sorry, but Prince Owain invited me here himself. I-if you have issues with his choices, please talk to him.” There, that was acceptable, right?

The woman just looked at her, processing the information. “Prince Owain? Invited you? If you’re telling the truth then he’s even more ridiculous than I thought!” She giggled as if it were the funniest thing she’d heard all day. “Just wait until I tell everyone about this, he’ll be ruined!” as the woman made to leave, ignoring Noire completely.

In a split second, the archer made up her mind. Owain might hate her for this, but she wouldn’t let some woman tarnish his name. Grabbing the retreating woman’s arm, Noire opened her mouth to speak.

“Wha-?”

“Listen up.” the first words alone were so commanding that the lady couldn’t bring herself not to as she stared, shocked. Taking care to control her volume as best she could, Noire started to talk. “Owain is old enough to make his own choices and you have no right to make fun of him for that. He might have chosen me, goodness, even I wouldn’t have chosen myself, but you can’t talk badly about him. Insult me all you like. But Owain is a good person, better than you’ll ever be. If I find out you’ve insulted him, I won’t hesitate to hunt you down, got it?”

The woman could only nod in response until Noire let go of her arm. Once Noire did, the woman ran off as fast as her heels would allow her to. Noire sighed as she watched the lady leave. Perhaps she had done a bit too much there, yelling her like that? Oh no, what if the lady talked about her instead and her Mother found out? She’d be so happy about it and make Noire do more stuff to ruin all the prissy nobles… Noire cringed even thinking about it.

Deep in thought, the archer barely noticed that she had stopped heading towards the food. She didn't notice a person come up behind her either, not until they slipped their hands around her waist and leaned their head against her shoulder.

“Who?!?” she exclaimed, surprised at the sudden contact. If it was some pervert, the best way to get him off would be throwing him over her shoulder and then-

A soft chuckle reached Noire’s ear and she immediately relaxed. The sound was familiar and nothing to worry about.

“Owain, nice to finally see you.”

“And I you, my stalwart companion. Are you enjoying the ball so far?”

“Ah, it’s…” What was she supposed to say? That is was tiring and she’d already fought with someone? “It’s nice.” she settled on, although she was sure there were better, more perfect things to say about it.

“Nice? The only nice thing is you, star of mine. Protecting me from a vulture of the court is an astounding feat in itself, is it not?”

Noire flushed bright red. “Y-you saw that? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry, it just sort of… happened.” It was a lame excuse at best, but it was all her frazzled mind could come up with.

Instead of being angry, he merely chuckled. “I couldn’t have asked for better. Knowing you, the love of my life, would protect me without question makes my heart sing like a choir of angels!”

“Ah, I wouldn’t go that far…” She couldn't help but feel embarrassed. She really doubted she made him feel like singing, but the way he said it made it seem so true.

“Now, shall we dance? It’d be a waste of your beauty if we didn’t.” Maneuvering around her dress, Owain took one of her hands and kissed it like a gentleman would. Before Noire could even blush, he had both her hands in his.

“Ready?” he asked with a smile, genuine happiness on his face.

“A-alright…” Although still a bit hesitant about this fancy event, Noire gripped Owain’s hand tighter. If Owain was by her side, maybe the rest of this ball would be fun? Noire could only hope so, especially since she knew a night with her love could make everything better.


	7. perhaps a perfect world.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not a feeling they know the name to, not yet. Perhaps watching the rain and thinking about it just a little more will reveal the answer, but Kiran isn’t sure if they’ll ever find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write about crying a lot;; Kiralfonse is good help when I’m sad, especially since it’s my second favorite rarepair. It’s raining where I am and I’m thinking much of the same things as Kiran, so I wanted to write it out. I know it’s late for the week, but I felt like I should finish it off anyway. This was meant to be as soft as possible, so I hope I’ve achieved that much, at the very least.

Kiran took their gloves off, feeling the smooth leather slide off of their skin. The last time they had taken them off? Days ago, perhaps, although Kiran couldn’t be sure. Things had been busy, much too busy, and only now had they finally settled down. Perhaps having a break would be a good thing, but Kiran couldn’t really be sure of that. Setting down their gloves on a table, Kiran sat themselves down. Knees pulled up to their chest and hands tucked into their sleeves, they stayed silent.

There wasn't really much of a point to the sitting beside doing it. The couch they were on was nice, soft and comfortable as a couch should be. It also happened to face the window, the only one in Kiran’s room. The window itself was nice, clean enough that you could see through to the courtyard below. Outside the window, however, wasn't nearly as clean, nor was it as dry. Outside was rain and the only thing keeping Kiran away from it was a pane of glass. Following a soundless pattern, the rain fell slowly, as if the water has no need to get to the ground any faster. If its speed had changed, even a little, it would have made Kiran feel uncomfortable. Instead, it falls, slow and soft, just like the tears flowing out of Kiran’s eyes.

Absently, they find themselves thinking. Is it a coincidence that it rained like this today? Are the heavens sad today too, crying like Kiran is? The thoughts are pointless, but they distract Kiran from the things that bother them. They don’t want to have to think about the blood and the destruction, not about the way they’ll be yelled at the second they get home or the gut-wrenching sadness threatening to tear their heart in two. Pushing the thoughts from their brain, telling them to go away and find a happier place for themselves, Kiran sat and thought about other things.

They think about the heroes and how they can still smile even after all they’ve seen. They think about talking and laughing with others, although they haven’t done that in a long time. They think about wearing something other than this cloak for once. They think of eating modern food again, the places they had meant to go. Even though the thoughts aren’t particularly sad, they make Kiran start to cry again. Those are the happy things for happy people, for a happy Kiran. As much as they’d like to be there already, they can’t be, not yet. Soon, they hope, but now…

Kiran stops thinking and just feels for a bit. They don’t feel particularly happy at the moment, but they aren’t sad either. Melancholy, they think the word is. Even if it’s not entirely correct, it’s a name for their feelings, which makes it seem important.

A knock on the door makes them stop for a moment.

“Hello, Kiran? May I talk to you?” The voice is softer than it usually is, but Kiran can tell its Alfonse. Wiping off a few stray tears, they knocked on the table, once then twice. It meant yes, he could come in and talk. Kiran didn’t talk often, not even to Alfonse, who they trusted most, so simple knocks had come to mean other things.

He walked into the room right then, not wearing his armour as he usually would. Kiran absently wondered the last time they had seen him without and immediately drew a blank. Had it really been so long? Yes, Kiran decides, it had been. For Alfonse, maybe breaks were good.

Alfonse frowned after entering the room. There was a visible difference between the brightest here and the hallway he had come from. “Kiran, why don’t you have the lights on?”

They just shrugged in response, not bothering to look at the prince. They didn't have to either, as the prince sighed knowingly before walking over. “At least don’t tell me you’ve been reading in the dark. It’ll ruin your eyes, you know…”

Kiran rolled their eyes. Of course they weren’t reading, they did too much of that anyways. They hadn’t felt like reading anyway.

As Alfonse came to the front of the couch, he started speaking again. “So, I have to-”

He stopped there, appraising Kiran’s face. At his intense stare, they looked away. “You’ve been crying,” he said, his voice carrying every bit of his unsureness. Their eyes looked puffier than usual, there were trails of moisture still on their face. He could see it clearly, the pieces of the puzzle were right there.

Kiran nodded in response. They had been crying so they wouldn’t lie to him. Tilting their head as if asking why it mattered, Kiran looked back at him.

Alfonse stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. The summoner was crying, had been crying, he corrected himself. It didn’t happen often, so Alfonse wasn’t quite sure of what he should do. Inwardly, he began to panic. He didn’t want to see Kiran cry, it made him feel unsettled. Even without his discomfort to consider, there was Kiran’s too. Maybe he should leave? They’d been alone before, so maybe they’d feel better without him around? That… sounded reasonable, no matter how he thought of it.

“I’m… going to leave.” he murmured, not trusting his voice to go any higher. Before he could even move, Kiran shook their head. “No…?”

Instead of shooing him away, Kiran patted the spot next to them, hand in their sleeve. You can sit if you like, their eyes seemed to say, although eyes really couldn’t say anything like that. 

Alfonse considered it for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sit and see what was wrong, not at all. He just wasn’t sure if he should, if that was something he was allowed to do. But Kiran had said it was okay, so… Alfonse joined them on their couch.

The pair sat in silence for a while, Kiran continuing to stare out the window. They didn’t cry again, but they couldn’t bring themselves to smile either. With Alfonse here, their melancholy felt a little better, more at ease. A little happier, they might say, but perhaps that wasn’t true. Their thoughts wandered over there but there wasn’t a concrete answer to be found, so Kiran moved along. It wasn’t as if it mattered much anyway.

Alfonse, on the other hand, felt more anxious than ever, sitting by Kiran’s side like this. They looked peaceful but sad, he realized, but there was nothing that he could do to change that. There was nothing he could think of, and that bothered him more than a little. Clenching his fist, then unclenching it, over and over again, he thought of words to say and then decided they weren’t good enough. What would be the proper thing to do in a situation like this? Alfonse tried to grasp it, but it pulled away before he could even get near it. 

“So,” he said. His voice shook since he still wasn’t sure of what he should be saying. “Do you… Want to tell me what’s wrong?” He sounded hesitant, weak, he realized. If he himself noticed, there was no way Kiran didn’t. He cringed, slightly, but then waited for an answer. 

Kiran contemplated the question for a moment. Did they want to talk about how they felt? What did they feel, anyway? Was such a thing even important? Shaking their head no, they decided it was not. No gesture, no word, could sum up their feelings, so they wouldn’t even bother to try.

The prince frowned a bit, his insides crumbling. So they didn’t want to talk? Did they not trust him enough to tell him what was wrong, or was it something else? He wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure, he just wanted to scream until an answer came to him. What else was there to do?

“Maybe I should go.” And maybe he should. His head told him to leave, his heart to stay, and his body was caught in the middle of it all. It was just sitting, he told himself, just sitting with someone who was his friend. His best friend, his closest friend, the one he wanted to hold hands with and kiss and grow old with… Someone he wanted to be more than friends with, he knew. Mind racing, he stood up to leave. He needed to think these thoughts through, but not here. Not now. “I’m going to go.”

A soft pressure on his hand stopped him from moving any farther. Warm, he thought, warmed than Kiran’s hands on the battlefield. They weren’t wearing their gloves today, not right now, and the thought made him even more nervous. “Y-yes?” he said, wondering what it was they needed. He had to go, get away from all of-

“Stay,” they said, their voice barely above a whisper. 

“Okay,” he replied before sitting back down.

Kiran didn’t let go of his hand and his thoughts didn’t race anymore because of it. 

After a little while, they spoke again, testing out the voice they rarely used. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you… I’m just not sure how I feel.” And that was the truth.

“That’s okay,” Alfonse replied because it really was okay. He could breathe easier now, was calmer now, even though Kiran was holding his hand like he had wished. It felt nice, really nice, so nice that he could barely think of anything at all except how nice it was. So, he turned his eyes to the rain and saw what Kiran was seeing. 

Kiran considered their hands, still holding each other. Kiran had thought about it more often these days, holding Alfonse’s hand. It felt good, warm, much better than those gloves felt. They’d like to do this more, they realized, hold his hand and have it feel nice. They wanted to kiss his forehead when he was sad and give him hugs when they were happy. Kiran would fall asleep to the sound of his breath and he’d smile every day, just for them. The idea of it all made Kiran’s heart race a little faster, made them smile a little wider. Perhaps that was the sign of a perfect world, being able to do all the little things Kiran could come up with.

“I love you,” they said because it was true. 

“I love you too,” he replied, not thinking about the answer because his heart and his head had already agreed. 

Kiran cried tears, just as softly as they had before. The difference now was that they were joyful tears, not ones of uncertainty. Better, they felt better now. Leaning their head against Alfonse’s shoulder, they calmer, more hopeful than before.

“Thank you,” they murmured, for Alfonse’s ears only. They were closer now, more than ever, to finding the words they needed, and they had him to thank. “Thank you.”


End file.
